


The Pursuit of Happiness

by KiwiAid



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Awkward Romance, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, It's back again guys, Romance, Slow Burn, This time it isn't going anywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiAid/pseuds/KiwiAid
Summary: “That’s why I find him so strange. I’ve met so many so-called civilised men in my short life, and they’ve all disrespected me, ridiculed me, hurt me… Then this man comes along who tells me he’s a bad man, and yet has been nothing but kind and honest.”Ida Murphy is a young woman who has been dogged by unfortunate events her whole life. Forced into a loveless marriage when she was only seventeen, she's done everything she can ever since to escape and live happily with her young daughter, Rose. However, Ida's hopes of finding such happiness are constantly stamped on by her clients as she works as a bathing lady in Valentine.But then a new client comes and changes all of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Now, some of you may recognise this story (despite the summary changing), and yep, it's the same author as before but I ended up deleting it the first time because I was concerned I would never be able to finish it. Some family things came up and then I got really sick and I didn't want to disappoint more and more people when they came to read this. However, I'm back and I promise, it's not going anywhere this time no matter what. I hope any readers who find themselves back here can forgive me. I'll work on this as much as I'm able and try and make it as enjoyable as possible to make it up to you, because you were all so nice. So, let's get to it!

Chapter 1

Happiness was an idea—a concept, but it was one Ida Murphy so desperately wanted to believe in. However, as she knelt on the musty wooden floorboards of the already worn down hotel of Valentine, scrubbing another less than pleasant man who felt he owned more than her hands because he threw a few cents at her, she began to wonder if happiness was little more than a fleeting fancy.

“Scrub my leg a little more, sugar.”

Ida forced a smile, pushing a loose strand of her long, curly, deep red hair behind her ear as she silently did as she was bid – her arm disappearing under the water. The man rewarded her with an arrogant smirk, and it took everything within her power to not grab him where it hurt.

She allowed her mind to wander to her one source of peace and serenity – her young daughter. Despite her job being absolutely repugnant to her, she had little choice if she wanted food on the table and a bed to sleep in for her only true source of happiness.  
Nobody else would take her and her daughter in when she stumbled into Valentine only four months ago. The only other work for women like her was not the type of work she would ever consider. At least the hotel offered her a room and food in exchange for her services. It was the best offer she could have gotten, considering her circumstance.

Her little Rose was five years old now – and she was an angel. Her round face was spotted with freckles like her mother, and she had the same untamed, dark red hair that she always wore in two braids that hugged her ears. She hadn’t been blessed with the same deep emerald eyes, but rather her father’s chestnut ones. Though that was the only feature Rosie shared of her father’s, praise the lord.

“Now the other one, sweetheart,” the burly man spoke again, and Ida barely suppressed a grimace as her thoughts were interrupted again before smiling sweetly once more.

“No problem, mister,” she said kindly, through gritted teeth.

The act – the constant acting – was the most tiresome part of the job. The middle-aged tough men were the worst. They were often drunk, sweaty, ill-mannered and obviously confused her for the working girls from the saloon if their wandering hands were anything to go by. She much preferred the young, shy types. They were often quiet, and content to just stare at her as she worked rather than make conversation. Some of them would even be sweet enough to give her a little extra.

Admittedly, Ida would prefer not to be in any such situation in the first place.

However, despite her current situation’s many hang ups, anything was preferable to what her life was like four months ago. Anything.

“That’s it, mister. We’re done,” Ida informed finally, pulling her hands out and grabbing a nearby hand towel as she dried off. “I’ll leave you to dress.” She rose from her seat and tried to swallow down the bile in her throat as she lent down to kiss the man on the forehead, as she’d been instructed to do each time by the owner.

The man winked at her as she sauntered off and out the muggy room, shutting the door behind her. Once free of the man’s gaze, she took a deep breath and continued on down the corridor. As she reached the room at the other end, she opened it carefully and was immediately greeted by a small pair of arms around her skirt.

“Mama!”

Ida smiled down at the young girl clutching her legs so tightly. “Hey sunshine!” She reached down and pulled the young girl into her arms.

“She’s been a little angel.” Ida glanced up at the other two girls that worked at the hotel, all gathered in the small, box room at an old table pushed against the wall, one smoking a cigarette and the other drinking a small glass of whiskey. They had become good friends of Ida’s, and whenever she had to work, the other girls were more than willing to step in and watch Rosie.

Mary was a blonde girl, pretty enough, but the lines on her face showed years of hardship that wasn’t mentioned, ever. Bella was the other girl, glass of whiskey in hand. She was younger than Mary, but still older than Ida, and probably the most innocent of the three. Her lacking responsibilities and minimal life experience had left her the most comfortable in the job – Ida almost envied her.

They both did their best to watch out for her and Rose – And for that, she was thankful.

“Thank you for watching her. I know she can be a handful--”

“You say the same damn thing every day,” Mary stated curtly. “You know we enjoy doing it. She’s the only little ray of sunshine in this shit stained town.”

“Language, Mary,” Bella quickly scolded, but a smirk still played at the corners of her pink lips.

Ida dropped Rosie back to the ground, who quickly tugged at her modest dress sleeves. “Mama, can we go out and play soon?”

Ida glanced at the small pocket watch she left on the end table by her bed, the only sentimental item she had left of her family. There were no set hours for her work – she worked when she worked. However, there were times of day on certain days of the week when the clientele was slim and she got to spend quality time with her little Rosie.

The clock read 1:17pm. There wouldn’t be time to play for a while.

“Mummy’s still got to work, darling. But, I promise I’ll make sure I’m finished before you go to bed and we’ll read some of that new book I got you, right?”

Rose looked disappointed, but she didn’t say a word as she slouched over to their shared bed. She never did. No matter how disappointed, how upset, how angry, how frustrated – she never said a word of back talk to nobody. The little girl was wise above her age and Ida felt truly blessed to have her.

“Well, I best get back to it myself,” Bella stated simply, downing one more glass before discarding the glass back on the table. “Holler if you need me, Ida.” Rising from her seat, she gave them a little wave as she brushed past them and out the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Naive girl,” Mary tutted through another puff of her cigarette, though not unkindly. Mary was a brash woman, loud and opinionated, but she cared deeply about all three of them. She had a rare way of showing it, but Ida knew that she would give her life for them in a heartbeat if reason called for it. Despite her not being old enough, Ida viewed her as the mother she wished she’d had.

“You know a lot of it is a front with her,” Ida said as she moved Bella’s leftover glass and the bottle of whiskey out of reach, a warm smile on her lips. “I think she pretends not to see, to make her days easier.”

“It’s naivety, that’s what it is. Naivety, and stupidity. She don’t know any better, that’s her problem.”

Ida sighed sadly, turning back towards the sullen woman at her table. “I hope, for her sake, she never has to learn.”

Mary gave her a side-long glance, then put her cigarette out on the dish at the table. “You know, you talk like your forty, not the twenty-four year old brat you are.”

Ida chuckled, shaking her head. “Always appreciate talkin’ with you, Mary.”

Suddenly the door swung open and in walked the hotel owner, a scowl on his features. The unexpected slam of the door had Rosie up on her feet in a flash, her small hands clutching onto her mother’s skirt as she glanced round at their visitor.

“We’ve spoken about this Ida! There’s work to be done and I can’t be responsible for calling you each time a new client walks in waiting to be served a hot bath.”

“Oh lay off, would ye? She ain’t allowed five minutes to be with her kid?” Mary scolded, her hands reaching in her pockets for another cigarette.

“Watch your mouth, Miss Miller! You’re lucky you still have a place here, considering how little work you do!”

Mary rolled her eyes, her new cigarette already lit in her mouth.

“Sorry, sir! I was only checking on Rosie. I’ll be right out now, sir.”

“Well hurry it up. There’s a client out here needing a bath and I expect it done in five minutes.” The hotel owner stormed right out and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Fucker,” Mary spluttered through a particularly deep inhale of smoke.

“I best get on with it.” Ida untangled Rosie from her skirt, still staring wearily at the door. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You going to be okay with Mary for a little while longer?”

“Yes, ma. I’ll be fine. I can try practising reading on my own until you get back.”

Ida beamed at her daughter proudly, then knelt down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before wandering off quickly back to work, inwardly preparing for another terrible customer.

* * *

Valentine. ‘A perfect little den of debauchery,’ Arthur thought. The kind of place the Van Der Linde gang blended in whilst somehow simultaneously standing out. Mostly due to the towns rather obvious distrust of strangers. That was the problem with small towns – everyone knew everybody.

It had been a few weeks now since the gang set up camp at Horseshoe Overlook, and Dutch and Hosea had already set him to work on preparing a few scores for quick cash.

Arthur mourned the loss of his money in Blackwater greatly. Having to start from scratch just seemed like a damn waste of time. Oh how he wish he knew what the hell had happened back on that Ferry. If only Dutch had just been a little more patient. Arthur was sure his and Hosea’s lead would have led to something big. _‘Well, I guess we’ll never know,’_ he thought.

“You’re a good girl,” Arthur whispered, his grooming brush gliding over the coat of his newly acquired Hungarian Halfbreed he had just tamed in the wild. He’d spotted the big beauty when he was hunting and just had to have her. She was fearless as he approached, stubborn too. He’d ended up on his backside more than once, but she eventually came around.

Like any good woman, she just need some persuading.

However, in the process of that persuading, he’d become caked in dirt and grime and he was pretty certain that if Valentine weren’t a livestock town, everyone around him would be giving him dirty looks and holding their noises. Not that it would have bothered him. But the ladies back at camp would certainly complain if he went back like this.

Arthur recalled the hotel he’d saved Karen in. He’d read a sign saying they offered baths and right now, he could think of nothing better than a nice long soak.

So he gave his new horse, Vera as he’d come to call her, one last pat before setting off in the hotel’s direction.

Once outside, he opened the door and was immediately greeted by the familiar face of the Hotel owner, scribbling something down in a book on the counter in front of him. The owner glanced up at his arrival, and immediately looked taken aback.

“O-oh, hey there. Now, I don’t want any more trouble, mister!”

Arthur scoffed at the beady man. _‘Like he’d be able to stop me,’_ he thought. _‘He’s already got a thin line of sweat on his brow from me just comin’ in the place. Coward.’_

“Well, I ain’t here to cause no trouble. I’d just like a bath, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, of course, sir! That can certainly be arranged. Just one moment.” The man stepped away from the counter, turning his head towards a corridor behind him. “Ida!”

No response. “Ida!”

Still nothing.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the man, who stared back at him sheepishly.

He forced a laugh, a hand running over his balding head in embarrassment. “Won’t be a moment, sir.” He started down the corridor and Arthur listened to his mumbling as he went. “Stupid girl. I honestly don’t know why I hired her. I give her a job out of the goodness of my heart--”

Arthur scoffed as the man left his view. He knew his type. Whimpered like a child when in front of another man, but thought he was a big man when beating down and laying into women. He was no man at all.

The owner came back about a minute later, a fake smile on his lips as he explained that his bath wouldn’t take too long. Arthur took a seat by the door and smoked a cigarette as he waited. Some guy moaning from up the stairs caught his attention. At first he figured someone must be having a mighty good time up there, until he realised it was pain he was hearing. Quite the opposite of a good time, then. Poor fella.

A few minutes later, a young woman – no older than 25 – with bright red hair appeared through the curtain leading into the hallway. Arthur would have to be a blind fool to not notice that she was beautiful. She had big eyes like a doe, but a deep green that stood out against her pale, freckled skin. Her face was small and slim, tired too. She wore a modest dress, or as modest as she was probably allowed in her job. Aside from slight cleavage, her skin was covered by her long green skirt and white blouse.

The young woman smiled as she greeted him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, mister. Your bath is ready for you if you would like to follow me,” she said meekly, beckoning him over with a wanton finger. Arthur had been around Karen enough to know when a woman was putting on an act.

He nodded politely, following after her as they moved down the corridor. She stopped outside a room near the end to the left, and opened the door. “Your bath is ready in here. If you like, I can help you along for a little extra,” she said coyly, a smile playing at her lips.

Before entering the building, Arthur would have declined the honour of an escort. However, the woman in front of him had managed to intrigue him somewhat. It was in the way she walked, and her trained enticing behaviour – she seemed to carry herself as someone above her station. Or maybe it was the lonely look in her eyes he recognised so readily. And, to be honest, it had been a long time since he’d been in the company of a beautiful woman that wasn’t any of the girls he knew well back at camp.

“Sure,” he replied simply. He couldn’t help noticing the twinge of disappointment in her eyes, even as she smiled. Just what kind of people had she been dealing with?

“Then I’ll let you get undressed, mister. I’ll be just here, so holler when you need me and I’ll come right on in.”

Arthur nodded mutely, walking through the door and shutting it behind him.

The room was dark, save for a few candles around the bath, which was full to brimming with steaming hot, soapy water. There was a few towels folded on a wooden chair in the corner of the room and on the other side, a hand towel hanging off a rail.  
Arthur shed his clothing, feeling grateful to be out of the clothes slick with mud. He stretched out carefully, then dropped himself into the achingly sweet heat of the water, relaxing his body into it.

“I’m done!” He called out, and not a moment later the door swung open.

“Okay, let’s get started, mister.” The young woman, he remembered as Ida, came over and perched herself on the bath next to him. She reached over for a cloth and some more soap, and began scrubbing his head, running her dainty hands through his hair as she went. “Let me know if I’m doing it too hard, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes closing naturally as he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation. The woman was good with her hands, that much he could say.

Arthur’s eyes opened naturally, the awkwardness of the situation suddenly settling in at the pit of his stomach. Truthfully, he had never actually accepted the ‘deluxe’ bath option before. Having been sweet on Mary for so long… well, it didn’t seem right.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes quietly searching the face of the woman beside him. Her face was focused on the task at hand, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration. As if feeling his eyes on her, she stopped briefly, glancing up at his face as their eyes met properly for the first time.

Her movements stopped for a moment, her doe-like gaze searching his own. She seemed confused by him – her eyes searching his face. As if realising she’d dropped her act, Ida broke eye contact and continued her movements, the cloth now gliding down his arm. Arthur thought he noticed her cheeks flush ever so slightly.

“So, erm, you been working here long?” He asked, not being able to take the awkward silence any longer.

Ida smirked to herself, her movements unfaltering. She looked amused suddenly, like he’d told a joke only she understood. “About four months, I think,” she replied simply.

Arthur nodded, glancing round the room idly. “Do you like it here?”

Now she snorted, the sound bordering a short laugh. Then, like she had just remembered she was with a client, her demeanour reverted back to the same coy girl who had invited him to follow her in the first place. “I mean, sure, what’s not to like.”

Arthur could hear the sarcasm laced in her sentence, despite her not emphasising it. He shifted uncomfortably again for a moment. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ida stopped for a brief second, her eyes meeting his once more. “Do what?”

“That act,” he paused, assessing how to broach the subject. “I’d rather you just be yourself. Honestly, it’d help take the edge off.”

She looked… bewildered.

“I…” Ida smiled to herself, shaking her head as she got back to work. “I honestly didn’t think there was anyone in this town capable of surprising me,” she said, freely. It felt liberating to be able speak openly in front of a client.

Now Arthur chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Maybe that’s because I’m not from this town.”

“You could be right there,” she smirked. “Honestly I’ve been dealing with so many assholes who think they’ve got some kinda right to treat me any way they please like some common harlet, just because I’m giving them a goddamn bath.” As if having forgotten again that she was speaking to a client, she suddenly became unsure. “Uh, sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have--”

Arthur decided he preferred how she genuinely was, rather than the show she put on. “No, please, by all means.”

Now she laughed – genuinely laughed. It was a disarming sound. “You’re a strange one.”

“Strange, huh? I think you’ve just gotten used to tiny men who lack any sorta brains, is all.”

“Could be right there. You wouldn’t believe the people who come through here.”

Arthur huffed, shifting slightly as reached down to start scrubbing his leg. Suddenly his face felt very hot. “T-Trust me, I’d believe it.”

Ida glanced up at him, a smirk playing at her lightly tinted red lips, seemingly aware that he was blushing as she scrubbed his upper thigh. He pushed his leg up and over the bath, to make access easy for her and she smiled gratefully. “So, where are you from, mister?”

“Uh, nowhere really. Move around a lot, I guess,” he said curtly, not wanting to get into who he was. For once, he was quite enjoying just being an ordinary man to someone.

“Ah, I understand. I reckon we all got something we’re running from.”

He didn’t say anything, but he glanced at her as she seemed to disappear away into her thoughts. For a second, she looked ten years older than she actually was. Something, or someone, had hurt her terribly.

“Well, looks like we’re all done here, mister.” Ida got up off the bath side with a shy smile, reaching out to the hand towel on side as she dried her arms off.“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she said, returning the towel to its original position. She stopped, then moved to lean over the bath tub, as part of the same routine she had no doubt gotten used to.

Arthur backed up slightly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

She paused mid-movement, her eyes searching his face for a moment. Then she smiled, a genuine smile, and continued moving forwards. Her lips tickled his cheek gently for the briefest moment before she moved away once more.

Ida began making her way to the door, but as her hand reached out for the doorknob, she paused. Then she turned, her eyes brighter than when she had entered the room. “Thank you, mister.”

Arthur looked confused for a second, his eyebrow arching slightly, his face slightly red. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you? What are you thanking me for?”

“For surprising me.” With a small nod of her head, she was gone.

And Arthur found himself wishing she would come back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A whole week had passed since that strange man Ida recalled so fondly had come into the hotel. With her usual clients being their same brutish selves, she found herself wishing that the mysterious stranger would walk back in each day, if only to return that small semblance of hope he’d given her about the opposite sex. Ida’s limited experience of men had never been pleasant. However, the way that man spoke to her and how shy he seemed around her… For a man who carried himself with the confidence of a stallion, it was surprising to see him flustered under her scrutiny.  
He had been respectful the entire time she had been bathing him – never once reaching out to touch her. When they spoke, she felt like an open book, him reading every page. It was ridiculously foreign and strange, but it was a pleasant feeling that she wished she could revisit. That strange man.

“Mama, you’re daydreaming again,” Rose muttered with a small pout.

Ida smiled, shaking away her thoughts. “Sorry, sweetie. Where did we get to?” She asked, gesturing down to the book in Rose’s lap.

Luckily for them both, today was Bella’s turn to handle bath duty which left Ida much more time to spend with her little Rose. They’d finally got a chance to sit together on the bed and read the new book Ida had acquired again from the general store. They didn’t have many, and those they did have weren’t particularly cheap nor quality, but they had little choice. She couldn’t go to a big city in search for more – it was too risky.

“I don’t know why you bother with that, kid,” Mary spluttered through an inhale of her latest cigarette. “Won’t do ya no good.” The older woman often sat in Ida’s room in the hotel, even when Ida wasn’t working. She didn’t speak about her home life much, but Ida got the impression that she hated being at her house.

“Mary,” Ida scolded, knowing full well where she could end up going with this rant. As much as she loved the woman, she didn’t want her little girl’s dreams being crushed so soon into her life. Ida at least wanted Rose to believe in a kinder world than the one they lived in.

Mary held up both her hands in mock surrender, turning back to face the wall.

“Mama, I’m hungry… Do we have anything to eat?”

Both Mary and Ida looked at one another simultaneously. They both knew that the last of the food had already been rationed out. That was the problem with her current situation. The hotel owner was a crooked bastard who took advantage. When she had been desperate for a job and a place to stay for her daughter, he had ‘oh-so-kindly’ come along and offered her both. What he had initially failed to mention was that the price of board was about the same as her actual wages, and she was still expected to purchase her own food. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to keep Rose safe.

After a moments hesitation, Ida nodded and rose from the bed towards the small cabinet where she kept what little food they had.

“Ida,” Mary stated in warning, concern laced in her hardened features.

“It’s okay, Mary. As long as Rosie is well fed, it doesn’t matter. I already feel guilty enough that she can’t live a better life than this. I won’t let her go hungry as well,” Ida muttered quietly, not wishing to concern her daughter with her worries. Rosie was smart for her age.

“I get ya, but… What’s gonna happen to little Rosie if you keel over one day, huh?”

Ida sighed sadly, not even wanting to acknowledge such a day could exist. “I won’t let it come to that.”

After digging out a box of assorted biscuits, Ida gathered a generous amount in her hands before shutting the lid and returning it to its original place.

“Here ya go, sweetheart,” Ida said smiling, holding out the biscuits to her daughter who looked back up from her book and grasped them gratefully.

“Thanks, Mama!” The little girl immediately started stuffing her face, her eyes brightening as she gulped down the contents of her mouth, barely chewing before doing so.

“Slow down,” Ida said, laughing at the joy in her daughter’s face. Rosie loved her food.

She started to very deliberately slow down at her mother’s chide, visibly chewing as she went, but her face still beaming with joy.

Again, without notice, the room door swung open and in came the hotel owner. Not once had the man bothered to knock before entering since she’d got there, and Mary always thought it was because he hoped to one day to walk in on her changing. Bastard.

“Ida, you’re needed. A client has requested personally for you to do his bath today.”

Ida’s jaw practically dropped, disbelieving that he would make her perform bath duty on the one day she got to spend with her little girl.

Not having Mary’s bravado, however, the older woman spoke up for her. “The hell you mean? It’s not her job today!”

The hotel owner looked ever furious. “Mary, do remind me why the hell I keep you around?!”

Mary being Mary, she just rolled her eyes and took another puff of her cigarette before dowsing it on the table. “Because I’ve been here the longest, and the clients like me. That’s why,” she retorted purposefully, and the owner scowled at her. He knew she was right.

“Ida, bath. NOW.” With that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Just don’t do it. Go find Bella and get her to,” Mary reasoned.”

“I don’t have the luxury of choice like you. I can’t risk being thrown out, you know that.”

She nodded mutely, seemingly lost in thought as she closed her eyes in contemplation.

“Have you gotta work again, Mama?” Rose asked, a sudden sadness reflected in her dark eyes.

Ida forced a smile, kneeling in front of her. “It’s only one client, sweetie. Then I’ll be all yours again,” she said, wiping the leftover crumbs that had gathered at the corners of the little girl’s mouth.

With that, she hurried off to work, though she couldn’t help being angry at whoever it was that had demanded her time. Although it wasn’t uncommon for clients to request a certain ladies presence for the baths, it was unusual for Ida. Typically it was the regulars who had such requests and those men were more used to Bella and Mary than her.

But she guessed it would happen at some point. She had been in the town a while now.

After preparing the bath and checking its temperature, she made her way through the hallway to the reception area of the hotel. After she passed the curtain, her legs stopped of their own accord at the person she was greeted with.

It was him. The strange man.

He glanced up at her as she entered, an almost wistful smile on his face. He tipped his hat at her, and Ida felt her face involuntarily flush crimson. A part of her hadn’t expected him to come back.

“Hello there, mister. Your bath is ready, if you’d like to follow me.” She smiled suggestively, still very stuck in her act with her boss in the room with her.

The man nodded, quickly following after her in much the same way he had the first time. Once outside the room, she gestured inside. “Just call me in when you’re undressed and ready.”

“Thank you,” he replied, disappearing into the room with the door shutting behind him.

Ida hadn’t needed to ask whether he required her assistance this time. He had already made it quite obvious by requesting her at the desk.  
The red haired woman lent easily against the wall, her arms crossed against her chest, as her mind began to wander.

Why had he requested her again? It was confusing considering how she had behaved the first time. Most men would have run a mile. Docile women equalled desirability as far as she was concerned. Then again, she had already come to the conclusion that the man was strange.  
Handsome, though. There was no denying that. He looked to be at least ten years older than her, but somehow that only added to his charm.

The feathery feeling that blossomed in her stomach only confused her more. Was she nervous? Why?

“I’m done!”

Ida opened the door, an unabashed smile gracing her petite face. “It’s good to see you again, mister,” she stated honestly, quickly perching herself next to him and getting to work, starting with his hair.

“Really? It must be bad here if you’re happy to see me.”

Ida chuckled, shaking her head in mirth. “You ain’t so bad, mister. Honestly if it had been anyone else requesting me today, I might’ve been mad.”

The man arched an eyebrow at her curiously. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Hm, well, I technically ain’t supposed to be on bath duty today,” she retorted bluntly, finding it very easy to forget that the man in front of her was actually a client. He had a strange way of easing her mind. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact she felt like she couldn’t hide anything from him anyway.

“Ah, I’m sorry then, ma’am.”

Ida stared at him a second, joy in her eyes. “Don’t apologise. Like I said, it’s good to see you again. Wasn’t sure I would.”

The man chuckled darkly. “And like _I_ said, must be bad here if that’s the case.”

Ida just smiled, not really certain what to say to that. Seemed like the man didn’t think too highly of himself. “You know it’s just occurred to me that I keep referring to you as ‘the strange man’ in my head. That hardly seems right.”

The man seemed amused as he gazed at her. “Still keeping with strange, huh?”

“Well I ain’t sure how else to refer to you. You certainly ain’t like any man I’ve met before.”

For a moment is expression softened – he suddenly seemed rather sad. It was an easy expression to lose yourself in. “Arthur.”

“Huh?” She said dumbly, not quite caught up from her mind wandering.

“My name,” he continued. “It’s Arthur, Arthur Morgan.”

“Oh!” Ida quickly reached out a hand in his direction, willing to greet him properly. He glanced down at her tiny hand, then smiled and shook it awkwardly. It was strange introducing ones-self to a lady stark naked in a bath tub. Certainly not a way he’d ever imagined doing it. “Ida Murphy,” she said, grasping his hand firmly in hers.

His hands were callous, and much larger. They seemed to swallow hers whole as they came together and a tingling sensation seemed to stay after the touch ended as well. Suddenly that butterfly sensation in her stomach came rushing back.

“So, uh, what’s brought you back to Valentine, Mr. Morgan?” She asked cheerfully, actually glad for once to make conversation with a client.

“Arthur, please,” he corrected brashly, and Ida smiled. Then, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently opted to not speak his first thought, whatever it had been. “Well, picking up some work, mostly.”

Ida glanced over at the holster sitting on top of the pile of clothes he’d made. She could tell the gun inside was well maintained, it was obvious to anyone. Evidently valued his gun, then. “You a bounty hunter then?”

He smirked, nodding his head ever so slightly. “Sometimes.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Mr. Morgan didn’t enjoy speaking of his past. Whether he knew he was doing it or not, he stiffened each time she pried. Ida understood perfectly.

“What about you?”

She arched a brow in his direction. “What about me?”

“Well, I believe you said you only been working her about four months, right? Was you doing somethin’ else before?”

Ida understood he was only making polite conversation – he couldn’t possibly know about her life before, nor did she think he would be interested. But a small part of her wanted to believe that perhaps he did – That maybe she could get lost in those bright eyes of his and share the pain that shackled her life and weighed her down, if only to lighten the load a little.

She never got the chance to see before the door swung open harshly, a fit of giggles following close behind. As if on instinct, Arthur reached out towards his gun, but his movements faltered at the sight of the little girl who had just come barraging in.  
Ida shot up quickly towards the door. Rose spotted her mother almost instantly, and apparently wasn’t much concerned about the naked man in the tub.  
“Rosie, you know you ain’t supposed to come in here whilst mummy’s working,” Ida reprimanded gently, kneeling in front of the little girl who was holding the only doll she had left from back home.

The girl looked slightly crestfallen. “Sorry, mama. I was just trying to find a hiding spot from Miss Bella. We’re playing hide and seek!”

Ida glanced back awkwardly at Arthur who seemed to be watching their exchange with interest. She sighed and turned back towards her little girl. “Okay, sweetie. But you can’t hide in here. I’ll come and find you myself once I’ve finished up.”

Rose nodded, grinning once more. “Okay, mama.” The little girl fearlessly waved at the man behind her as she left the room once more.

Ida took a deep breath as she returned to her feet. If it had been anyone else in that tub, she may very well have lost her job for that.

“Cute, kid,” Arthur said, breaking the heavy silence that permeated the air. “She yours?” He asked through a slight cough.

“Sorry about that.” Ida made her way back over to the tub, resuming her work, her face rather red and embarrassed. “And, she is,” she stated quietly. For a moment, Arthur seemed disappointed.

“So you, uh, married then?” He asked awkwardly, not really meeting her gaze.

“No!” She retorted, probably too quickly. “No, I uh… erm. Well, not really.” Ida sighed heavily, those shackles feeling heavier than ever. “It’s a long story.”

Arthur’s searched her face for what felt like the longest time. “You can talk about it, if ya need to.”

Still, even now, he managed to surprise her. How was it possible that this man, practically a stranger, was able to read her so perfectly?

Despite this, however, she was hesitant. A part of her was afraid she truly would scare him off if he knew the truth.

“I ain’t sure if I can,” she uttered, sadly.

“Well there’s no pressure here, or nothing. You just look like you need it, is all.”

Ida sighed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I do. Oh god, how I feel like I do.” She didn’t falter in her movements as she began to rattle off her tale, though she did slow down every so slightly to help her concentration. “I grew up on a farm outside Saint Denis. My folks weren’t particularly wealthy and we lived solely by the day, but… It was home. I was happy.” She huffed, the memory of that life now tainted. “But when I was seventeen, I was spotted by an older, wealthy businessman one day. He came riding past on his fancy horse and by the time I noticed him, I was already his property in his eyes.”

Arthur could already see where this was going. It was a story he was all too familiar with.

“He came back the next day, offering my family a dowry for my hand in marriage. Of course my folks accepted. They needed the money and as far as they were concerned, I wouldn’t get a better opportunity than that. I’d be a city girl. _Wonderful_ ,” she said, her voice laced in sarcasm. “So, before I was even eighteen, I was married to a man more than double my age and away from the only place I’d ever known. Unluckily for him, I was a right firecracker back then, and bit more of a free spirit than he could handle. I’d often do my best to sneak out of the house and into the city, avoiding him as much as I could… He didn’t like that.”

She sighed again. “He’d hurt me on the daily… I guess he was used to a different type of girl.”

Arthur decided, in that moment, he never wanted to see that look on her face again.

“Anyway, when I fell pregnant… well, despite the man I was with, I’d never felt happier.” She smiled again. Thank goodness she was smiling again. “And I didn’t want her to have to go through what I did. So, I decided as soon as I was able, we’d make a run for it. Choosing the right time was difficult… My husband – No, my ex-husband is a dangerous, powerful man. I shudder to think what he may do if he caught up with us.”

A heavy atmosphere settled in the room as she finished her story. Ida suddenly felt very self conscious, just realising that Arthur had been silent the entire time. His expression was unreadable and flat, not giving anything of how he was feeling away. “I’m sorry, I, uh--”

“I got a proposition for ya,” He said, interrupting her long list of profuse apologies. “I’m gonna be honest with ya, miss. I ain’t a good man. I’ve done some bad things in my time, and I’m still doing bad things.” Ida looked more confused than ever at his seemingly random declaration. “But, I ain’t your husband. I’d never hurt you, nor would I ever hurt your kid. Now, I’ve got some friends that I run with – well, they’re practically my family. They’re, uh, interesting folk, but they’re good people. Deep down.”

“Where are you going with this, Arthur?” Ida asked, her curiosity peaking.

“Well, I’m thinking I have a word with the man who kinda runs things. See if we can’t get you and your kid a place with us.”

“Arthur--”

“Now, before ya say anything, you should know that there’s other women in our group. Another family, even. With another kid. Now, I know you have no reason to trust me, but… We can at least keep you safe. Whilst with us, you’ll never have to worry about that piece of shit husband of yours again.”

“I… don’t know what to say. Why would you even offer me this?”

Arthur didn’t want to say it was because of Isaac. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t take seeing another little kid swallowed by the god awful world they lived in – not when he could do something about it. “I just am.”

She paused for a minute, thinking it over. Her dainty hands stopped working as she contemplated her situation. “You’re… an outlaw, aren’t you?”

He sighed, knowing there would be no point lying. “I told ya, I’m a bad man, but… I swear, I’d never hurt you.”

Ida’s experience told her she shouldn’t trust him. That doing so was stupid and irresponsible, but… She was miserable. Aside from Rosie, she had no joy in her life. Her fake smiles felt like ashes in her mouth and she wanted nothing more than to be able sleep soundly again.

After a moment, she glanced around the miserable looking room, and then turned back to Arthur – still very much naked in the tub... and burst out laughing.

“What?” He asked, eyes wide and taken aback by her prompt change.

“S-sorry,” she said, through barks of laughter. “I just realised how ridiculous this whole situation is.”

Arthur seemed confused, so she gestured to him still in the tub and he found himself chuckling as well.

“So, uh, what do you think?” He asked again after their laughter died down.

Ida thought about Rosie for a moment. Arthur did say there was another kid in his camp… The idea of Rose having a friend was a sweet one. She needed to be around people her age. And, well, Arthur seemed certain she would be protected. It wasn’t an offer she could easily turn down.

“So, should I pack a bag?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a brand new chapter that nobody has seen before, and the longest yet. Honestly, not much actually happens in this chapter but I felt like this moments of just getting to know one another was important and I love stuff like this when I'm reading, so... I hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter 3

“No, no, NO, absolutely not!”

“Dutch.”

After Arthur had left Ida in Valentine, he’d jumped on his horse and rode back out towards Horseshoe Overlook. As they travelled the dirt roads through Valentine and out into The Heartlands, he began mulling over his decision to invite Ida back to their camp. It had been a proposition made on impulse after seeing her downtrodden, almost broken face when talking about her past, however… He didn’t regret it much. Sure, he enjoyed being able to pretend and speak with the young woman as just an ordinary man… But had he been an ordinary man, he would be in no position to keep her and her little one safe.

As soon as he galloped in to the clearing of the camp, he hitched Vera up and immediately tracked down Dutch, who he found talking to Hosea in his tent in the middle of camp. They had greeted him as he joined them, but as soon as he’d brought up Ida’s situation, the mood quickly changed.

“We can’t afford two more mouths to feed, son,” argued Dutch, cigar in hand. “If we were still in Blackwater, then maybe it would have been okay. But, now?”

“But she’s got a young kid, Dutch. And I could tell by damn well lookin’ at her she was starvin’.”

“That’s not our problem, and it certainly ain’t yours, Arthur. And that’s just the truth.”

Arthur sighed in exasperation, rubbing his face in frustration. Realising Dutch may not concede, he turned pleading eyes towards Hosea who had so far been watching in relative silence.

“Maybe we should think about it, Dutch. I mean, I’m sure Miss Grimshaw would appreciate more help around here.”

Arthur gestured to Hosea with a nod of agreement, as if to say ‘exactly’.

Dutch glanced between the pair and sighed, before flinging away his cigar to distinguish itself on the dirt ground beside him. “You said she had a wealthy, and not just wealthy, but dangerous husband. I’m not sure we can take that kinda heat right now, son.”

Arthur scoffed, now tapping his foot impatiently. “I think we can manage one rich asshole. We’ve been doing it for years. The Pinkerton’s are where our concerns should be. Not some bottom-feeder who wouldn’t know shit from honey.” He sighed. “You always said we save those that need saving.”

The atmosphere felt so stagnant that Arthur thought he might even be able to slice through it with his hunting knife if he tried. Dutch stared at him for what felt like minutes, but was in reality just a few seconds. Then, as if a great realisation had struck him, Dutch’s expression changed to one of almost wonder. “Arthur, are you… sweet on this girl?”

Taken aback by the question, he hesitated in his response. “No! It… It ain’t like that. I just, uh, I opened my big mouth and said I’d come back for her, didn’t I. And, well, she seemed… desperate.”

Neither Dutch or Hosea said a word for what felt like the longest time, just both sharing an unspoken conversation as they glanced at one another. A moment later, Dutch shook his head, a small smirk almost hidden from view as he gazed at the floor.

“Fine, we’ll welcome them both into our little family, son. But she’ll have to pull her weight like everyone else around here. We can’t afford charity.”

Arthur nodded mutely, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since setting off from Valentine. It felt like a great weight had been lifted and he could finally breathe again.

“You best go get her then, Arthur,” Hosea said kindly. “Take a wagon. I’m sure you’ll need the room for the little one and her things. She’s still a woman after all.”

Arthur smiled, tipping his hat as he turned to set off back for Valentine.

* * *

“So you’re into bad boy outlaws now, huh.”

Ida rolled her eyes at Mary’s comment. The woman had been sat glumly in her usual spot since she had revealed the offer she’d been giving from the strange man, Mr. Morgan. The red-haired woman was busy packing her and Rose’s things away into the small suitcase she’d brought with her when first making her journey East.

“It ain’t like that, Mary. I just… I ended up tellin’ him about my past, about my ex-husband. And he said he could, and would, protect me and Rosie.”

Mary scoffed, taking a massive swig of whiskey that’s she’d grabbed from the cupboard after Ida had told her she was leaving. “And, what, you believed him? Just like that? You do know what an outlaw is, right?”

She sighed heavily, folding more clothes into the suitcase. “That’s why I find him so strange. I’ve met so many so-called civilised men in my short life, and they’ve all disrespected me, ridiculed me, hurt me… Then this man comes along who tells me he’s a bad man, and yet has been nothing but kind and honest.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t about you likin’ him.”

“It ain’t,” Ida argued, picking up her pocket watch and adding it the rest of her possessions.

“Well I think it’s romantic,” Bella said, finally joining them in the room with little Rosie after offering to bathe her before they set off.

“You would,” Mary retorted. “You’re the type of dummy who’d believe a man had good intentions if he came in here pointing a gun at ya, demanding your unmentionables.”

Bella scowled at the older woman, then walked over to her and snatched the whiskey bottle out of her hand, taking a swig of it herself.

“Where are we going, mama?” Rose asked, watching her mother pack their things away next to her on the bed.

“We’re going to be staying with some new friends, sunshine. They’re going to take care of us for a while.”

“Oh, okay… Can I bring my dolly?” The little girl grabbed the doll from beside the pillow, staring at it in fondly in her lap.

“Of course, sweetie.”

“Have you even thought about Rosie in all this?” Mary demanded sharply, and Ida had to hold down her anger at being interrogated in such a way. She knew, in her heart, that her friend was merely worried for them both.

“You shouldn’t even need to ask that. I’ve thought of little else. But let’s face it, I ain’t able to give Rosie any sorta life like this. I can barely feed her, let alone clothe her. If Mr. Morgan is even an inch the man I think he might be, Rosie might just stand a chance of reaching my goddamn age and actually being happy as well.”

Both older women remained silent a moment, mulling the words over in their heads. Eventually Mary sighed in defeat, getting up from her seat and pulling Ida in a tight embrace. Bella smiled at the exchange, a pleasant warmth filling her stomach.

“You better damn write me, ya hear?”

Ida’s eyes widened ever so slightly, pulling away from the other woman’s hold. “I didn’t realise you could read.”

Mary tutted teasingly. “Charming. I do have some skills, ya know.”

“We’ll miss you two,” Bella said, warm tears filling her eyes and threatening to fall.

“Aw, this ain’t goodbye. Apparently their camp ain’t too far from Valentine. We’ll come visit as often as we can. Don’t worry.”

Mary shook her head sadly. “You don’t know enough about the outlaw life, kid. You won’t be able to go anywhere without being watched, and no doubt these men—they’ll do bad things. They’ll kill people, rob people, hurt ‘em… They’ll wreak destruction on the Heartlands, then eventually the heat will start to burn them and they’ll move on and all you’ll be able to do is hope that the fire don’t spread.”

Ida felt a tightness in her chest, Mary’s words scaring her more than she’d like to admit. She’d never heard her friend speak in such a way. Just what kind of life had she led, truly?

“That’s hardly a way to send off our friend, Mary,” Bella scolded, though she now looked as concerned as Mary, her words even managing to reach her typically infallible soul.

“I’ll be fine, Mary. We both will,” Ida stated reassuringly.

The blonde woman eventually managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Then she moved away from Ida and turned her attention to the little girl still sat on the bed, playing with her dolly.

“Now you be good, girlie,” she muttered, patting her head gently.

“I will, Miss. Mary!” Rosie exclaimed happily, a huge grin on her freckled face.

Then Bella stepped forward and pulled the little girl into a hug, the tears she had tried so desperately to suppress now falling freely. “You look after your momma, ya hear.”

Ida felt herself choking up as well. These girls had become like family to her. They were rough round the edges, some might even say coarse, but they were the strongest people she knew – and she loved them exactly the way they were.

“I will, Miss. Bella,” Rosie replied politely. The poor girl looked rather confused by everything.

Then they turned to Ida, both of them pulling her in for a group hug. “And you take care of that little girl,” Mary warned. “No matter what happens, you both have to stay safe, got it?”

Ida just nodded, not trusting her voice to have the strength to formulate a response.

Once again, the door of her room opened unannounced, and a very unhappy Hotel Owner strolled in, an unpleasant expression on his face. “It seems your chaperone is here, Miss Murphy,” he stated curtly. When Ida had told him she would be leaving, he had practically screamed at her, calling her every name under the sun – apparently deciding she wanted better than indentured servitude made her ungrateful and entitled.

Ida took a deep breath as she pulled away from the girls. Rosie climbed off the bed, dolly in hand and joined her mother’s side, placing her other hand in hers and Ida reached over and grabbed her suitcase, all ready to go.

“Well, I guess this is it. I’ll make sure I write as often as I can, okay?”

“You better.”

She nodded, fighting back her last tears as she pushed passed the man she’d be happy to forget, and towards the one she was intrigued to meet.

As soon as they exited the hotel, they were greeted by the welcoming sight of Arthur Morgan, lazily leaning against an empty wagon, cigarette in his mouth and his eyes to the ground. Although Ida couldn’t make out his face in this position, his hat masking most of it, she recognised him immediately.

“Hello, Mr Morgan,” she hailed cordially, smiling as their eyes met.

The man smirked ever so slightly, discarding his barely used cigarette on the ground as she approached. “Al’right, Miss Murphy?”

“Yes, we’re both fine. Am I to assume we’re good to go?” She asked, inclining her head towards the wagon behind him.

“Yeah, worked it all out,” he answered, moving to take the small amount of luggage she had from her. “Is this all you got?”

“Yes, we didn’t leave in the way of much and, well, I haven’t really been able to afford much else since getting here.”

Arthur nodded, but inside he felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. He at least had experience living with little money, and he knew how to survive without. Ida on the other hand…

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that no more.”

She smiled, suddenly feeling more safe than she had since she was seventeen. “Rosie, you remember Mr. Morgan, don’t you?”

The little girl blinked up at him with the same doe-eyes has her mother, then suddenly started grinning. “Uhuh, you were being washed by mama.”

They both turned quickly crimson. Arthur shifted on his feet, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck awkwardly and Ida did her very best to cool the sudden heat that had overcome her freckled cheeks.

“Let’s, uh, perhaps not mention that again, sweetie,” Ida said, watching as Arthur put her suitcase on the back of the wagon.

After the bag was loaded and ready to go, Arthur turned back and knelt down in front of the young girl hand outstretched ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, little lady.”

Rose had backed off ever so slightly as he had approached, but once realising he was just offering up a hand shake, she beamed at him and grasped his much larger hand with her own tiny one. “Nice to meet you, too, sir.”

“Call me Arthur,” he replied warmly, releasing her hand before rising back to his feet, gently patting her head as he went.

“So, we good to go?” Ida asked, glancing over Arthur’s shoulder towards the wooden wagon behind him.

“Wait!”

All three of them turned back towards the hotel as Mary shouted out after them, waving her hand in the air as she went.

“Mary?”

“I… I couldn’t just let you go without seeing this man for me-self,” she said through heavy breaths, evidently having been in a mad dash to catch them before they left.

“Excuse me?” Arthur mumbled, his eyebrow slightly arched in confusion.

“Excuse you indeed,” Mary retorted, joining Ida’s side. Ida glanced between the pair with bated breath, already knowing where this was going. “Now, here me, mister… If anything happens to these two, I will hunt you down myself and put a bullet right between your eyes!”

“Mary!” Ida called out worriedly.

Mr Morgan looked as if he had some retort resting on the tip of his tongue, but noticing how concerned this mystery woman seemed to be, he held it down. “I understand, ma’am.”

The older woman visibly swallowed, tears threatening to spill out the corner of her glazed eyes. “You better. These girls… They’re special. They’re good, innocent, and they deserve better than the life they’ve been given so far.” Mary pointed towards Rose who was hiding behind her mother’s skirt, afraid of the confrontation, knowing full well how it had always ended when her father was around. “That little girl there – she’s… she’s been through enough. Now I warned Ida away from all this, but… but the truth is, this isn’t the life she deserves either. So, you better make sure she’s happy – that they’re both happy, got it?”

Arthur’s chest was aching before he even realised it, and suddenly a part of him was regretting the promise he had made to protect them both – not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid he’d fail.

“I will do my utmost to make sure they’re happy and safe. You have my word,” he stated finally.

Mary sized him up a moment longer, then nodded, turning on her heel back towards the hotel. “I won’t say goodbye again, Ida,” she said over her shoulder, not wanting them to see just how truly heartbroken she was. “Stay safe.” Those were the last words they heard before she disappeared back inside.

“Is Miss Mary okay, mama?” Rosie enquired, coming out from behind her mother’s skirt.

Ida didn’t know what to say to the little girl because she just wasn’t certain of her answer. All she could do was hope that Mary was indeed okay.

“I’m sorry about her,” Ida spoke carefully, gently pulling Rose towards the back of the wagon with Arthur by her side.

“There’s no need to apologise.”

“She’s just very protective. She means well… Honestly, we haven’t been in Valentine long, but she’s kinda become like family. Her and Bella, another girl who works at the hotel, they’ve kinda taken care of us these past few months… I think I would have been lost if it weren’t for them.” Ida realised she was rambling and awkwardly bit her lip, trying to read Arthur’s face.

But he was impossible to get a read on.

Arthur just smiled down at Rose, gesturing towards the back of the wagon. “Need a hand, little lady?”

The little girl beamed up at him, and Ida’s heart burst with joy. Having grown up in the household she did, a man treating Rosie in any such respectful way was entirely foreign to her. The only man she’d ever truly been around had been her father after all.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied kindly. Arthur then lifted her up and onto the wagon and she sat down on the wooden bench to the side next to her bags, still clutching her dolly in her hand.

Arthur then turned to Ida, a small smile just inching at the corners of his harsh looking lips. “Ma’am,” he said politely, reaching out a hand to also help her up the back of the wagon.

“Thank you.” Ida took his hand gratefully, then stepped up and sat down beside her daughter.

Arthur then proceeded to jump on the front of the wagon, pulling the reigns to starts guiding the horses down the muck filled roads of Valentine.

“You’re lucky to have ‘em,” he stated finally.

“Huh?”

“Those women. What were their names-- Mary and Bella? You’re lucky to have ‘em. Everyone needs someone.”

Ida couldn’t help but notice the wistful tone of his voice, and a part of her wanted to question him on it, but it wasn’t her place. They barely knew each other after all.

“I am lucky. Up until I met them, I didn’t feel particularly lucky. Actually, I felt like the whole world was against me. Like, God was angry at me for somethin’, ya know. But I guess, in the end, all my luck has come at once. First I find Mary and Bella, and now I found you.”

Arthur chuckled to himself, like he didn’t actually believe her. “I appreciate the thought, Miss Murphy. But I ain’t sure that’s got much to do with luck. More like being at the wrong place at the right time.”

Ida smirked. “Ain’t that exactly what luck is?”

Arthur laughed again – a decent, real laugh. “Suppose you’re right there.”

A warm silence overtook the wagon for a short time, before Arthur huffed and glanced around towards them briefly. “So, I should probably tell ya a little of what to expect when we reach the camp.” Arthur started speaking again once they had made some distance between the livestock town and their destination. “The man in charge is called Dutch. He sorta started the gang, him and a man named Hosea. They, uh, they kinda raised me.”

As Ida listened to Arthur’s explanations of the people she was about to meet, she couldn’t help but notice how nervous and uneasy he got when talking about them. Maybe it was because the man wasn’t typically much of a talker, or maybe he didn’t want to leave a bad first impression. Though how you can leave a good first impression when talking about outlaws, she did not know.

“They’re good people really. I know that’s difficult to believe comin’ from another outlaw, but… They won’t do you no harm.”

“I’m honestly not worried, Arthur. I may be young, and a woman, but I’ve dealt with a lot in my short life. Ain’t no harm gonna come to me or Rosie no more.”

Arthur turned his head slightly back towards her, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he nodded to himself and settled his eyes back on the road ahead. “Though I must warn you… Micah – He’s a piece of work. He’s gonna try and get a rise outta ya at some point. Just do your best to ignore him. For some reason Dutch seems to think there’s a heart of gold under that ‘rough exterior’ of his,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And what do you think?”

“I think he’s an unhinged, loose canon likely to blow at any moment, if I’m bein’ honest,” he stated bluntly.

“He sounds scary,” Rosie squeaked out, burying her head in her mother’s side.

“Now, don’t you worry, little lady. His bark is worse than his bite. I bet you could take care of ‘im no problem.” He turned to the little girl slightly, then winked at her.

Her eyes twinkled at him. “Right!” She cheered happily, pumping a tiny fist in the air. They both chuckled at her warmly.

“But, er… Maybe just steer clear of him for now. Both of ya,” Arthur stated carefully after their laughter died down, a nervous tinge to his voice. Ida got the message loud and clear from that.

Arthur began turning the wagon through a forested area, voices gradually growing clearer in the distance. “We’re comin’ up to the camp now. You two okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Ida replied as she glanced down at her little girl who seemed chirpier than when she had been packing up. Rosie was used to moving all the time, but it was never easy.

“Who goes there?!” A voice called out from within the trees. Ida turned to try and get a look at who the mysterious voice belonged to. From within, she could just about make out a young African American man holding a rifle, seemingly on guard duty.

“It’s Arthur!”

“Welcome back, Arthur,” the man said, his posture relaxing immediately. “Are these our new guests?” He asked cheerfully as the wagon passed.

“Yep. I’ll introduce you proper when you’re done here,” Arthur said, tipping his hat slightly.

“Sounds good. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” the man called back to them, the wagon now fully entering the clearing.

Ida and Rosie’s eyes searched the area, watching people as they darted from one spot to another, whilst others sat happily exchanging stories round a campfire. Ida immediately spotted a group of young women by one tent to her left, gossiping away, and the knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach quickly loosened. They reminded her of Mary and Bella.

Arthur jumped down from the wagon first. Two older men began walking towards them – one with black curly, unruly hair hidden under a dark hat, and the other a well groomed older gentleman with a slimming waist coat on. If Ida had to guess, she would bet on them being Dutch and Hosea, the men Arthur had spoken most about.

“Welcome to our little family!” Dutch said, arms open wide in a welcoming gesture as Arthur helped them both down from the wagon.

Both men came and stood round them, forming a little circle. Arthur was stood beside Ida and Rosie was once again hiding behind her mother, staring up at everyone’s faces.

“My name is Mr. Dutch Van Der Linde, and this here is my associate Mr. Hosea Matthews,” he said, holding out a hand to shake in greeting.

Ida smiled, having guess their identities correctly. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya,” she replied as politely as she could, accepting his hand. He surprised her by in fact leaning down to gently place a kiss on the back of her hand, rather than shaking it.

“And whose this behind you?” Dutch asked, kneeling down to get a better look at the young red head, who peeked out from behind her mother. She was shy, but Ida could just about make out the smile she was wearing as Dutch held out a hand towards her also. Rose followed her mother’s actions, switching her dolly to rest under her arm, and held out her own hand. Dutch smiled, and kissed the back of the little girl’s hand as well.

Rosie went as red as her hair as she giggled and shyly hid once more.

They all chuckled at her reaction. “I think she might like you, Mr Van Der Linde,” Ida suggested, a smile still playing at her freckled features.

“Aw, well I like her, too.”

Dutch rose back up from the ground, turning back to Ida with a more serious expression than before. “Now, I’m sure Arthur has already told you everythin’ ya need to know, but… well, we can’t be affordin’ charity. I understand that you’ve been going through a difficult time, and we’re more than happy to welcome you with open arms despite all that. However, we can’t do it for free. You’ll have to work and give your fair share to the group.”

Ida smiled. “Trust me, Mr Van Der Linde--”

“Dutch, please.”

“Urm, okay… Dutch. I have no problems with workin’ and earning my keep. I grew up on a farm and ever since my husband--” Ida cut herself off, not really knowing just how much Arthur had shared. Evidently more than enough if Dutch and Hosea’s lack of confusion was anything to go by. “Well, I’ve worked my fair share of jobs and I ain’t lazy. I’d actually feel more comfortable earning for me and my own anyway.”

Dutch nodded, evidently satisfied with her answer.

“You grew up on a farm, you say?” Hosea asked, finally joining in on the conversation.

Ida smiled and inclined her head. “Yeah, my folks owned a place just outside Saint Denis. I was their only child so I did a lot of the work. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

“Good, Kieran could use someone helping out with the horses. Are you good with horses?”

“Of course. I mean, I’m more used to pigs and cows, but we owned a couple of horses on the farm and they were always well looked after.”

“Good, good. Is there anything else you’re good at, ma’am?” Dutch enquired curiously.

“Well, I can turn my hand to just about any chore really. I’m a decent cook, I can clean… I’m also not bad with a gun.”

“Is that right?” Dutch said, a hint of surprise on his face.

Arthur also seemed taken aback by this revelation.

“Well, I had to be. Wild animals were always a problem on the farm and we were a target for more than one robbery. With me being the only child, my papa taught me how to shoot when I was young. ‘Bout the only useful thing he did for me.”

“Interesting. Well, at least we know we have one more gun if we need it,” Dutch stated finally.

“I’d rather avoid doing anything illegal, Mr Van Der Linde,” Ida interjected quickly. “For the sake of Rosie, I mean. But I don’t mind pitching in to help protect everyone here, if need be. And I’d happily help hunt for everyone.”

Hosea and Dutch both quickly realised why Arthur had been so insistent on bringing her to the camp. This woman, she had a way with words that couldn’t be ignored. There was something particularly charming about her. The way she carried herself, the sheer honesty in her eyes, the kindness… She was an easy person to like.

“Well, it seems like you’re going to be a very useful person to have around, Miss Murphy.”

“Thank you, Dutch,” Arthur said, nodding to the older man.

“No problem, son.”

With that, Mr Van Der Linde walked back towards the giant tent in the middle of the camp, which Ida could easily guess to be his.

Hosea smiled at the pair. “Now, Miss Grimshaw has set you up with a small tent we managed to get hold of. We felt it only right you got a place of your own, accounting for little Rosie here.” He gestured to the little girl who was already looking more at ease surrounded by all these new people. “Your tent is beside Arthur’s… We figured that would also make you more comfortable.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I… Words can’t describe how grateful I am to all of you for this.”

“Oh, please. You’ll make an old man blush.” With that being said, he turned in much the same way Dutch had previously, waving over his shoulder as he left.

Arthur turned to her, an almost apprehensive look in his eyes. “So, is it everything you hoped for?”

“Honestly, I didn’t really know what to expect after finding out you were an outlaw, an’ all. But you’ve managed to surprise me again, Mr. Morgan. Everyone has.”

He smiled almost bashfully. “Oh, good… Eh, Dutch is… Well, Dutch is Dutch. He’s a man with a code, for what it’s worth. He always said we save people that need savin’, so...”

“Talk about subverting people’s expectations.”

Arthur looked as if Ida had just spoken a foreign language. “What?” He said, a dumb look on his face.

Ida laughed, placing a hand gently on his arm to support herself as she did so. Arthur warmed under the touch, but found himself laughing along with her despite the fact he didn’t understand the joke.

Rose interrupted their reverie by pulling on her mother’s skirt slightly. “I like it here, mama.”

Ida’s heart practically burst in her chest at her daughter’s admission. “I feel like I should be concerned with how quickly Rosie has seemed to warm to you outlaws,” she said, a mirthful smirk on her face.

“What can I say? We’re just a regular bunch of charmers.”

A small pause in the conversation ensued as they both seemed to get lost in one another’s gazes. A few seconds later, Arthur realised and coughed awkwardly as he averted his eyes. “Well, I best let you settle in. Don’t worry about doin’ any work today. Just go introduce yourself to everyone. Well, everyone but Micah, if that weasel is even here.”

Ida smiled, then nodded. “All right. And Arthur… Thank you.”

He inclined his hat towards her then made his way over to what she could only guess to be his horse, which was happily mingling amongst the other steeds grazing in the camp.

Ida glanced once more round at everyone busying themselves, deciding she could very well find her place here. Maybe this was always where she was meant to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took as long as it did to get posted. I was celebrating my 21st and then I got really ill again with a chest infection. My body hates winter. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Bit of fluff and getting a bit angsty, too. Thanks to everyone who has commented and gave kudos! I appreciate you all!

Chapter 4

Several days had already passed since Ida and Rosie joined the Van Der Linde gang and she was still trying to get acclimatised to the new environment and people. The amount of work she’d got through probably equalled more than she’d done in her whole time in Valentine. Despite that, however, she was the happiest she’d felt in the longest time. It was gruelling, and tiring, and she felt like she had something to prove, and yet... Ida felt privileged. Being able to spend every moment of every day with her daughter, working together, surrounded by great conversation and interesting people, it was all she’d ever wanted. Even if she had to remind herself these people were also killers on the side.

Dutch still kept an eye on her everywhere she went, but she had expected that. People like them couldn’t survive without suspicion and they barely knew her yet.

A few of the gang members had welcomed her warmly. The man Ida had first met on guard duty upon entering the camp had introduced himself as Lenny, and from she could tell, he was a kind man. Though he seemed a bit young to be running with a group of outlaws.  
Mary-Beth and Tilly were beautiful souls and Ida often found herself wondering how two girls such as them had found themselves with a bunch of degenerates. Then again, she was hardly one to talk.  
Karen, on the other hand, reminded Ida quite a bit of Mary. From hair colour to attitude, they had a lot in common. Though Karen didn’t seem to deal with her issues as well as Mary did, and for reasons unknown to Ida, she hadn’t quite taken a liking to her either.  
Miss Grimshaw was an interesting lady, however. She was tough as nails and strict as hell, but Ida could tell under her cold exterior she just wanted the best for everyone around her. Ida found herself getting on quite well with her. Perhaps because she agreed to do anything she was asked to do, not wanting to risk upsetting anyone when she was the new girl in the group.  
There were a few of the men that she’d met who weren’t so kind. The man Ida knew as Bill would often make snide remarks when he thought she couldn’t hear, but she just ignored him. A few of the others were just generally keeping her at arms length. As for the man Arthur warned her most about, well, Micah hadn’t been in camp the entire time she had been there.

“Mama, look what Jack found!” Rosie came barrelling over to her mother, who was currently working one of the men’s shirts against a washboard in a bucket of water. Ida tutted at the appearance of her daughter, her new dress already covered in a thick layer of dirt. Her shoes had also apparently grown a pair of legs of their own, since they were no longer on her feet. Then she spotted the source of her daughter’s excitement, a rock in her hand, but it was bleached white in colour – almost shiny looking.

“Oh, Rosie. Look at the state your in-- And where are your shoes?!”

Rosie looked down at her feet, curling her toes against the grass below her, a huge grin on her face. “I think Vera ate them,” she giggled. “But isn’t this rock amazing, mama!”

Ida sighed, shaking her head in mild disbelief. She didn’t even want to know what her child could possibly mean by Arthur’s horse eating her shoes, and the despair she felt at having another dress Mr Morgan had generously provided for her practically ruined already was harrowing. Despite all that, however, Ida couldn’t bring herself to be truly angry. Ever since Rosie had arrived at the camp, she’d finally come out of her shell. She’d become this fearless lioness, wild, but still managing to bring joy to everyone around her. Having taken a particular liking to Jack, Ida often caught them reading together and pretend sword fighting with oddly shaped twigs they dug up from the ground.

It was the happiest she’d seen her. Ever.

“Well, you’re gonna have to change out of that dress, sunshine. You’re filthy.”

Rosie giggled again, her toes digging deeper into the dirt. “Mister Arthur said he doesn’t mind if I get dirty.”

Ida rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “Yes, well, that’s because Mister Arthur isn’t the one cleaning up after you.”

“Oh, Rosie, there you are.” Miss Abigail Roberts, Jack’s mother, made her way over to the pair looking a picture of concern. It was an image Ida recognised well, as she saw it in herself more often than not when it came to Rosie. “Have you seen Jack?”

Rosie ducked down ever so slightly, in an almost bow-like pose, then gestured for Abigail to get closer. The other mother smirked, leaning closer in.

“He’s in our new hideout,” she whispered, putting her finger to her lips like she’s just told the biggest secret one could ever hear. Abigail nodded, her mouth forming an inaudible ‘oh’ as she smiled and returned to her full height. “But it’s a secret,” she continued.

“Well, when you see him again, tell him I was looking for him, okay?”

Rosie nodded, a triumphant smirk on her face. “I will.”

“So, you need a hand, Ida?” Abigail asked, gesturing towards the pile of laundry that lay next to her ready to be scrubbed.

“Oh, would you mind terribly? Honestly, I could use the company more than anything.”

The dark haired woman smiled, joining her beside the water bucket. “Not at all.”

Ida nodded in thanks, then turned her attention back to her little girl who was still staring in wonder at her new rock. “Rosie, once your done playing, come find me and we’ll get a wash and change before bed, understand?”

“Yes, mama!” With that the little girl disappeared back into the trees, suspiciously close to where Arthur’s horse, Vera, was hitched.

“She’s a good kid,” Abigail said, still looking rather amused by Rosie’s antics.

Ida beamed with pride, knowing that she was hers. “Yeah… But Jack’s a good kid, too. They’re both sweet together.”

Abigail grabbed a shirt from the pile and another washboard from close by and got to work herself. “Yeah,” she scoffed. “surprising considerin’ how little his father is around to help.”

Ida wasn’t really certain what she could say about it considering how new she was to the group. Her and Abigail had seemed to hit it off quite quickly since they were both young mother’s, but there was a fine line that she didn’t want to step over. “I know how that feels… Though, to be honest, I much prefer Rose’s father being out of the picture.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow at her. “I noticed you don’t talk about him much. Do you mind me askin’ why?”

Ida felt her stomach churn at the question, unpleasant memories surfacing to the forefront of her mind. Her hands faltered in their movements and heavy silence overcame them as Abigail waited for her response. She sighed heavily, opting to get it out of the way with. Arthur already knew anyway so there was no point hiding it. “He wasn’t a good man, and he most certainly wasn’t a man I chose.”

Miss Roberts gave her a sympathetic look, understanding fully what she was implying. “Women rarely get to choose in this world. I guess in that sense I’m lucky. John, he may the most dumb and useless man to ever step foot on this Earth, but he’s my dumb and useless man, ya know.” She sighed, her shoulders suddenly seemed very heavy. “But I wasn’t always this lucky. Us women have just gotta make the most of what we can. We don’t got much power, but we do at least have our children. They give us something worth fightin’ for.”

Ida smiled, her heart feeling more at ease knowing there was someone who understood perfectly how she felt. “Right. I don’t know what would have happened to me if it weren’t for Rosie.”

“Our children are a blessin’.”

A comfortable silence overcame them as they worked, willing the pile of dirty clothes to go down. Ida found her eyes wandering over the camp as she watched others work or relax. Her eyes unwittingly found their way to one man in particular – Arthur Morgan. He was sat on his cot cleaning one of his rifles, a rag in his hand as he ran it down the barrel. His face was scrunched up in concentration, and Ida couldn’t help but notice how the muscles in his arms flexed under his shirt as he moved. Though why she noticed such a thing, she did not know.

Her eyes then scanned over his sleeping space. She couldn’t see everything from where she was sat, but one item she did spot was a framed picture of a very beautiful woman. She was sat poised, prim and proper. The woman had a dignity and charm about her that Ida found herself envying and a mysterious pang in her chest caused a sadness in her she didn’t understand.

“Eh, Abigail, may I ask you a question?” Ida asked, her tone quite unsure.

“Sure,” she replied simply.

“T-That picture of Arthur’s--”

Abigail glanced up at Ida, then followed her gaze towards Arthur’s tent. “Which one? The one of the sour lookin’ lady or…?”

“No, no… Not that one.”

Abigail’s face changed to one of realisation, then a knowing smirk. “Oh, that one. The one of Mary, right?”

Ida almost smiled at that revelation. Of course she was called Mary. “Yeah, the real pretty one.”

“Mhm, what about it?” Abigail enquired, seeming almost pleased with her self.

Ida paused for a moment, quite disgruntled at the rather pugnant, unpleasant feeling in her chest. “Well… who is she?”

Abigail gave her an appraising glance. “Well, that sounds like quite the loaded question there, Miss Murphy,” she said teasingly.

Ida could feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment, much to her irritation. “It ain’t like that! I’m just curious, is all. I mean… She ain’t someone from the gang, and Arthur hasn’t mentioned her. Not that I expect him to tell me everything or nothin’--” Ida cut herself off, realising she was rambling and quickly turned her head away to try and hide what she could only imagine was her bright red face. Being a red head had its disadvantages.

“Hm, well if you must know, she is someone Arthur loved very much a long time ago.”

Ida felt sick at how her heart sank at this discovery. What did she expect? That like her, Arthur had never been in love before? He was practically a middle-aged man. Of course he’d been in love. Admittedly, there weren’t many people she knew of who kept framed pictures of their past lovers around, but… then again, how did she know she was even in Arthur’s past and not his present? And why was she even so disappointed in the first place?

“Though why, I do not know. That woman never truly loved him, she just loved the idea of him,” Abigail started rattling off bitterly, and Ida found herself absorbing every word. “Arthur never saw it of course. He was blinded by her – and she broke his heart. Not that I know much about it, I guess. This was all before my time here.”

Ida suddenly felt very sad for him. Having never been in love enough to have her heart broken, she couldn’t truly understand how Arthur must have felt, but… Somehow she imagined that the pain of a shattered heart was somehow worse than never having loved at all.

She found her gaze returning towards Arthur who was still working on his guns, pondering what Abigail had just revealed to her. Ida unwittingly began searching his face, more intently than she had ever done before. And she could see it. The pain. It seemed obvious now. She could see it in the lines of his face, the wrinkles by his eyes that aged him beyond his actual years, in the hunch of his shoulders, and the scars on his hands. She could see all of it. Suddenly it all made sense and her strange man seemed far less strange.

Abruptly, Arthur stopped his hand mid movement, almost as if he’d felt her eyes on him and turned to look right at her. Ida practically jumped out of her skin and she promptly returned her focus to the soaked item of clothing in hand, inwardly begging in her head ‘don’t come over’, ‘don’t come over’, ‘don’t come over’.

No such luck.

“Hello, ladies,” Arthur said charmingly, tipping his hat at the both them, the two guns he was previously working on now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, Arthur, we were just talkin’ about you.” Abigail smirked, evidently quite pleased with herself as Ida’s face became an even deeper crimson. Ida wanted nothing more than to disappear in the ground beneath her.

“Is that right?” He said, an amused smirk on his face. “Nothin’ bad I hope.”

Ida silently begged Abigail with her eyes not to continue this line of teasing. The younger woman smirked to herself, but generously allowed her her reprieve. “Of course not. Was there somethin’ you needed?” She asked hastily, changing the subject.

Arthur seemed lost in thought for a moment, but he quickly gathered himself. “Right. Miss Murphy, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to go huntin’,” he asked, almost shyly.

Ida was taken aback. “Oh.”

“Well that’s hardly romantic, Arthur,” Abigail taunted, jokingly.

“Very amusin’, Miss Roberts,” Arthur retorted with a roll of his eyes, his thumbs digging into his belt. “I just wanted to see what Miss Murphy could do with a gun, is all. Need to know what we’re workin’ with.”

Ida smiled, humbled by the fact Arthur had thought to ask her. She doubted any of the other men would have, on account of her being a woman an’ all, despite what she’d told them about her capabilities. “But, Rose--”

“Well I can keep an eye on little Rosie, Ida,” Abigail interjected, seeming quite excited at the idea of her going hunting with Mr Morgan, for some unknown reason.

Ida glanced from Abigail to Arthur, who were both waiting patiently for her answer. After the embarrassment she felt not five minutes ago, she felt like turning down the offer. However, her wish to prove what she could do outshone everything else. “Then, sure, only if you don’t mind, Abigail?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” She replied, smirking. “Go, get outta here for a while. I doubt you’ll get another chance anytime soon.”

“That’s settled then,” Arthur stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll ask Lenny or Charles if you can borrow one of their horses. We’ll need the space for what we’re gonna be huntin’.”

“And what about a gun?” Ida enquired, not really having had the chance to equip herself for such a trip.

Arthur’s lips inch up in a tiny smirk, then hunched his shoulder up slightly to draw her attention to the two guns still strapped to him. “Go tell the little lady where we’re goin’. Don’t want her worrying none.” Ida nodded, a wide smile on her face. Then he tipped his hat and turned back towards the campfire at the other side of the camp. Lenny and Charles were both sat there, digging into a large portion of Pearson’s stew.

“Guess I’ll be findin’ Rosie then.”

* * *

“Lenny! Charles! Need to talk to ya a minute!” Arthur called to the pair. His decision to invite Miss Murphy hunting had been something he’d been thinking about since she’d revealed that she was capable with a gun. None of the other men in the group would take her too seriously, but he was keen to know just what she could do. He had to spend a lot of time out of the camp and he wanted to be certain that Ida was capable of taking care of herself and little Rosie when he wasn’t around.

“What is it, Arthur?” Charles asked curiously, turning away from the fire to regard his oncoming form. Lenny did the same.

“I was wonderin’ if one of you two wouldn’t mind lendin’ Miss Murphy your horse? We’re goin’ hunting.”

Lenny and Charles both glanced at one another, a strange glint in their eyes. “Sure, Arthur, she can use mine,” Lenny replied first. “Probably more her size anyway.”

“Thank you, kid. Mighty good of ya. We should be back before it gets dark.”

“Any particular reason for this impromptu hunting trip, Arthur?” Charles asked, a questioning look on his face.

Arthur could tell they were suspicious about it. It was unusual of him to ask anyone to go hunting with him since he usually did his hunting on his way back from a visit into town or after completing a job for the gang. Rarely did he hunt with anyone unless he was the one being asked.  
But what could he say? He was concerned for her and her kid’s safety? He felt responsible for their safety? Or he simply wanted to spend time with Miss Murphy? Any of these made him seem like an absolute fool. Perhaps he was.

Arthur quickly turned on his heel back towards the horses “See you boys later.”

Before Arthur could reach his well pampered Vera, a little body barrelled into his side like a bullet from a rifle. The shock of it sent him backwards a few steps in order to steady himself, but as he glanced at the source of the intrusion, he couldn’t help but shyly smirk to himself.

Little Rosie had firmly taken a hold on him – both literally and metaphorically.

“Can’t you take me huntin’ as well, Mister Arthur?” She asked excitedly, a huge grin on her muddied face. Arthur shook his head silently to himself, a warm feeling in his chest. He would never admit it, but he thought it was cute how she had come to call him ‘Mister Arthur’. At first she’d insisted on calling him Mr. Morgan, but he’d playfully teased her about it and asked her to call him Arthur. This was the compromise she’d apparently come up with.

“Rose!” The kid had seemingly bolted from her mother in quite a dash if Miss Murphy’s disgruntled expression was anything to go by. “Get off Mr. Morgan’s leg!-- I’m sorry, Arthur,” she exhaled exhaustedly.

Arthur chuckled, gently prying the little girl off him. “No harm done, Miss Murphy.”

“But can’t I go hunting, too?” Rosie pleaded.

Ida and Arthur both glance at one another for a moment. “Eh, sorry, kiddo,” Arthur said, speaking up first. “It’s a little too dangerous for ya.”

The little lady immediately pouted in a way Arthur knew only women could. He’d seen it numerous times before. Rosie was certainly going to have a man wrapped around her tiny fingers when she was a grown woman, he was certain of that.

“Maybe when you’re a bit older,” Arthur appeased, glancing to Miss Murphy who smiled in acknowledgement.

“Really?!” Suddenly Rosie was very excited again. “You promise?!”

“Sure. As long as your mother allows it, of course.”

“Can I mama?!” Rosie asked, turning to her mother enthusiastically, her hands clamped together in a silent prayer.

Arthur stared as the young woman beside him who jokingly placed a hand to her lips in a thinking gesture. “Hmm, let me see.”

“Oh, please, mama! I’d really like to learn!”

Ida laughed and Arthur was certain this was the most alive he’d seen her. Both mother and daughter had, what he could only describe as, blossomed since joining the camp. They were like completely different people and they’d only been with them a few days. He found himself wondering just who they could become with just a little more time – and he’d never been more certain in his decision to bring them here.

“We’ll see, sweetie. When you’re older. Now, me and Mr Morgan really must be goin’. It’s getting late and I want to make sure I’m back in time to put you to sleep. You make sure you stay close to Abigail, okay?”

“Right. It’ll be getting dark soon,” Arthur reaffirmed, quickly glancing up at the sky and at the position of the sun.

“Okay, mama! See you soon!” The little lady called behind her as she promptly disappeared back into the bushes.

“Well, should we be off?” Arthur asked as he pulled one of the rifles off his shoulder and handed it to her. She grasped it carefully and then pulled the strap over her own shoulder.

“Sure,” she replied with a nod of inclination. “Whose horse do I have the honour of borrowin’.”

“Lenny’s. Figured it was the right size for you.”

She smirked, an amused glint in her eyes. “Kind of ya.”

Within the next five minutes they had both settled on their respective horses and rode out of camp. Arthur had offered her a hand up, but being the farm girl she was, Miss Murphy was up on the horse and already guiding it through the opening. Arthur found himself liking this side of the young woman – she was no damsel, despite everything she’d been through.

They rode in silence for a while as they enjoyed the cool air and countryside. Arthur wasn’t certain just how much of this Miss Murphy had been able to enjoy until now. “So, where we headed?” She finally questioned, glancing around the scenery as she effortlessly guided the horse beside his own.

“Not too far. Just want to see how you handle that rifle, is all.” She nodded mutely to herself. “So, uh, I was just wonderin’ how you feel ya settling in with everyone.” An almost euphoric smile crept at the corner of her lavish lips and Arthur found himself inadvertently staring.

“Much to my surprise, quite easily. Growing up on a farm and then being locked away like a prize trophy by my husband, well, it didn’t leave much room for meetin’ people,” she paused, that bright personality dimming through the memories of her past, though the flame didn’t stay murky for long as her mind refocused on the present. “But it almost feels like I’m part of a family again.” Arthur felt his heart skip a beat at the proclamation.

“Well, you still haven’t had the displeasure of meeting Micah, so your opinion might soon change,” he replied light-heartedly, not wanting to focus on how her smile affected him.

Miss Murphy chuckled, shaking her head in mirth. “Where do you think he is anyway?” She questioned politely, though Arthur could guess she didn’t have any actual desire to know after all his warnings.

“Oh, I don’t know. I try and think of him as little as possible. Hopefully lost up some mountain somewhere.”

She laughed once more. Then a moments silence passed before she spoke again. “Honestly, the biggest surprise for me since joinin’ you has been Rose.”

Arthur raised a curious eyebrow at her. “How d’ya mean?”

“Well, she’s always been a closed off child, ya know. Her father, he kept her locked away in his fancy house much of the time, much like myself. I think he was disappointed I hadn’t birthed him a boy who he could mould into some other version of himself, so he would treat her like a… an inconvenience. And because of how her father treat her, she’s always been a little afraid around people, ya see. He would never check if she was there when he...” A pained expression painted her features and he couldn’t help the way his insides boiled at the images that burned in his mind. He imagined a polished looking man wrapped up in expensive clothes, drunkenly beating down on the woman beside him in a darkened room, who was desperately trying to protect her child, as the little lady herself hid in the shadows under a bed. He hoped his imagination was just running away with him and it wasn’t nearly as bad as all that. However, from the small scars he’s already noticed on her lithe form, he had a feeling he wasn’t as far away as he’d hoped. If he ever saw that man...

“But since we joined up with you people, she’s just so… so full of life. And I owe so much of that to you, Arthur.”

Suddenly he felt very embarrassed. “Oh, you don’t owe me nothin’,Miss Murphy.”

“But I do. You’ve done so much for us, so much for her, more than my husband ever did. You’re a good man, Arthur.”

He felt himself cocooning around himself under the praise. He didn’t believe a word of it and he was concerned with just how much she believed it. He enjoyed how she saw him, but it wasn’t real. And the disappointment on their faces when they realised the pedestal they’d put him on wasn’t where he belonged, he wasn’t certain he was ready for that. “I ain’t a good man, miss.”

“But--”

“Listen to me, Miss Murphy. I rob people. I kill people. I’m being hunted by lawmen for those things. Does that sound like someone who is a good man to you?”

Arthur noticed how she worked her bottom lip, the cogs turning in her head – like she had something she wanted to say. Though whatever it was, she’d apparently opted to not bring it up. She exhaled slowly and her previous smile returned as she focused back on the track in front of them.

Just as he was about to confront her about it, he noticed a group of men on horses heading in their general direction and one of them he recognised as an O’Driscoll that he’d let slip away on his last job. No doubt the whole group were O’Driscolls. Arthur glanced at Ida who seemed blissfully unaware of the upcoming threat. Thankfully the men hadn’t recognised him yet, but unless he did something now, they would.

“Miss Murphy, I do not wish to alarm you--”

“Oh, Arthur, what I gotta do to make you call me Ida,” she said teasingly, the weight of the previous conversation not having perturbed her at all.

“I will keep it in mind, but right now we have bigger problems I’m afraid.”

Quickly realising her light-hearted cheer hadn’t worked in lifting the mood, Ida’s expression morphed to one of concern as she followed his eyeline towards the O’Driscoll’s on horses not too far from them.

“Who are they?” She questioned and Arthur was certain he could see her hands shaking as they gripped the horse’s reins tighter.

“Not friends,” he stated hoarsly. “Now, they’re gonna recognise me, but they won’t recognise you. If you move now, you can get back to camp and I can hold ‘em off and lead ‘em away.”

“Arthur!”

“Don’t you ‘Arthur’ me,” he retorted forcibly. He had to get her away. He’d promised to keep her safe, and he intended to keep that promise. “You get back to that girl of yours.”

He could see her hesitation, but he couldn’t have her conflicted about this, like he was important. Like he somehow mattered. “GO!” He shouted and in her shock she pulled on the reins of Lenny’s horse and began a fast gallop back in the direction they had come from.

Finally he could breathe again.

“Hey! It’s that sonuvabitch that robbed from us! One of Van Der Linde’s!”

Here we go.

“Come on, girl!” Arthur quickened Vera’s pace, setting off at a lightening fast speed towards a forested area in the distance. Hopefully the trees would provide a decent amount of coverage and he could then pick them off one by one as they followed in after him. That was the plan, anyway. But the thundering sounds of hooves close behind him didn’t settle his nerves much.

As his horse manoeuvred through the deep vegetation, he made sure he was a good enough distance away before dismounting and taking cover behind one of the larger trees, his rifle held securely between both hands. The O’Driscolls entered his line of sight and he quickly counted at least five who’d come on horses, though he saw a couple dismount as they entered.

He was careful as he aimed, took a deep breath, then squeezed the trigger on his exhale. The bullet sped right between the eyes of the first rider whose body proceeded to hang from the horse’s saddle, one foot still stuck in the stirrup. He loaded the next shot. They knew where he was now, so he had to act fast. He lined up the sights with his next target. Shot fired. Dead.  
They were getting closer now, and he could hear rustling in the trees beside him. Someone was trying to flank him.

He was running out of time.

Deciding his rifle was too slow a weapon for such a close quarters firefight, Arthur shouldered the rifle once more and pulled out his trusted revolver. He promptly shot two more men on their horses who had hurriedly gained on him, but before he could react, the man who had flanked him jumped out and tackled him to the ground, his revolver falling just out of reach.

“You’re dead now, fucker,” the grimy man spat as Arthur desperately battled against the burly weight straddling him down, the asshole’s gun slowly being pointed closer and closer to his face as his strength waned. He could just about register another oncoming horse over the grunts of them both.

Arthur took a deep breath, fearing the end.

Then a shot rang out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! This chapter is slightly shorter than what most chapters will most likely be, but it was a nice ending point. There's a little more angst this chapter, and some dad Dutch as well... I should probably preface this by saying I have a very love/hate relationship with Mr. Van Der Linde, so perhaps expect quite a bit from him in this story.  
> Also the next chapter may take some time as I'm expecting it to be a rather lengthy one, but hopefully, very enjoyable. And might involve a certain fishing scene? *wink wink*

Chapter 5

The skid of hooves against dirt. An intake of breath. The pull of a trigger, and the crack of gunfire.

A body hits the floor.

Ida exhaled sharply, her breath sticking in her throat as her heart thundered in her chest. An overpowering need to regurgitate the contents of her stomach suddenly overcame her. Her hands shook against the gloss of the rifle and her eyes watered over the sights. However, she couldn’t let the shock of what she’d just done distract her from what was important.

“Arthur!” She called out, her breath still shaky as she dismounted from Lenny’s horse, the rifle firmly back on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” Ida ran to the man in question who was breathing heavily on the muddied ground, the man she’d just killed still half laying on top of him.

He grunted, then slowly pushed the body off of him. His face was marred with a disgruntled expression and he offered no other response than a slight scoff as he rose from the ground, kicking the dirt off him as he went. If at all possible, Ida felt even more sick at the sight of the blood that now covered the majority of his torso.

“Arthur?”

“We need to go,” He retorted with a huff, grabbing her wrist harder than he ever should have, pulling her forward back towards Lenny’s horse.

“Arthur?!”

“Get on. Quickly.” As they reached the horse, he released her roughly and turned his back, whistling for Vera who had most likely ran off to escape the gunfire.

Ida felt so overwhelmed with emotion that all she could think to do was obey. She jumped up on the saddle and turned the horse to follow after Arthur who was already galloping ahead. Her her whole body quivered as her mind made a desperate effort to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

She had just killed a man. Admittedly a man who was close to murdering someone she considered important, but it was also the first time Ida had ever fired a gun with the intention to kill another human being, and she’d done it within a few days of joining a gang of outlaws.

But what choice did she have? The sounds of gunshots as she’d fled had persuaded her to turn the horse around and go back for Arthur. Then, being witness to a man grappling to end his life, she’d acted on impulse. It was him or Arthur, and there was only one viable option there.

_Arthur._

He hadn’t said a word as they raced away, their horses still keeping a fast pace whilst they distanced themselves from the corpses of Arthur’s ‘not friends’. Ida didn’t even want to think about who those men could have possibly been.

“We should be al’right to slow down now,” Arthur finally said, though his tone suggested that breaking the silence was the last thing he wanted to do.

Ida didn’t understand it. His anger. She should be the one who was angry.

“Arthur, what is--”

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” He interrupted, snapping his head in her direction, indignation for her plain to see.

Ida stopped herself from cowering under his scrutiny. She wouldn’t let herself be bullied by another man. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’. Did I stutter? I _said_ – What. Were. You. Thinking?” He quipped back, punctuating the last few words with a sarcastic pause each time.

Betrayed. That's how she felt. “If you must know,” she retorted, the flash of fury she demonstrated even made Mr Morgan’s eyes briefly widen in surprise. “I was thinking ‘how can I just leave him behind? After everything he’s done for me, for my little girl?’ Then I heard the gunshots and I just couldn’t… I saved your life!”

“I coulda handled it,” he retorted dismissively, waving her off.

“You know what, no!” Ida pulled the horse in front of Arthur’s, cutting him off so he would have no choice but to listen to what she had to say. “I killed a man today! And I’m scared, and disgusted, and I can’t stop shaking, but… But I’d do it again! To protect those I care for--”

“That’s the problem!” He shouted back, waving a hand in the air in a frustrated manner. “The only person, ONLY person, you should be protectin’ is that little girl back in camp. Me, Dutch, Hosea, all of us, we ain’t people you should protect.”

Ida could feel her insides burning, the days events overwhelming her ability to think rationally. “Why?! Because I’m not really part of the gang? Or is it because I’m a woman? Has your pride taken a hit, Mr. Morgan?”

She'd said the wrong thing, and she knew it.

Arthur gave her an incredulous glare, shaking his head as he pulled Vera off to the side to trot round her. “Never had you down as a fool, woman.” He spoke in a rumbled whisper, the kind that vibrated in your chest, but he was _seething._

Ida didn’t say a word – she couldn’t. If she did, the tears that threatened to spill would cascade down at an unstoppable rate. And she would NOT return to camp in such a state. Rosie didn’t need to be worrying about her mother any more. Instead, she opted on speeding back ahead of Arthur, not able to stomach being around him much longer. He didn’t try and stop her.

Charles was the first to greet her, him being the one on guard duty at that time. “Who’s there?” He called out.

Ida took a deep breath before answering. “It’s me. Ida.”

“Oh, hey. Where’s Arthur?” He asked curiously as she brought the horse up next to him, his confusion only growing when he noticed a serious lack of game strapped to the animal.

“I, uh, I’m sure he ain’t far behind,” she replied, willing her voice to sound even, despite her chest aching in pain which she could only put down to a shattered heart.

“Okay...” Charles was searching her face in a way that made her feel he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Did the hunt not go well?”

“Urm, something like that. Excuse me,” she said quickly, pulling the horse forward, not really wanting to risk Charles bringing forth all the emotions she was so desperately trying to hide.

Ida dismounted Lenny’s horse just as she reached the hitching post, tied him against it, and got to work on unsaddling him – he’d had a tough day, after all. They both had.  
The sound of more hooves followed soon after, just like she’d guessed, and in came Arthur; still furious and covered in blood like a cougar’s chops after devouring its prey.  
He ignored Charles as he came in, heading straight for the other hitching post at the other side of camp. Ida watched as he jumped off and stormed right into the middle of camp and towards his tent.

She was certain not a person in camp hadn’t seen how angry he looked.

“Hey, Ida!” Lenny was evidently the only one brave enough to approach after witnessing the barrage of thunder that was Arthur. Seemed like everyone else knew to stay well clear in such a situation. “So, uh, how’d he treat you?” Ida’s eyes widened, thinking he’d been referring to Arthur, but realised her mistake as he gestured to his horse next to her.

“Oh, he’s a good boy. We did fine together,” she replied, her head darting around for the little girl she was yet to spot.

“Good, good.” He paused awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation. “So, uh, do you know what’s wrong with Arthur? He seems a little--”

Ida sighed loudly, cutting Lenny off mid-sentence. “You’re better off askin’ Arthur. I really need to be finding my little girl.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” he replied, slowly backing over in a slight bow of apology. She shook her head in exhaustion as she passed him, leaving the unsaddling of his horse to him, and entered the main area of the camp. There wasn’t a chance she could miss the stares and whispers of the others as she passed by the invitingly warm campfires and tents.

“Mama!”

Ida released a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding as her little bundle of joy came running into her arms. She picked her up and allowed the little girl to wrap her legs and arms around her as she held her desperately against herself.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ida managed to choke out, doing her best to hold down the tears she felt brimming. “Have you been good?”

“Yeah! Miss Abigail washed me and Jack and I splashed her with water! It was really fun!” She snickered at the image.

“She’s a little devil.” Ida turned to see both Abigail and Jack walking over to join them, a smile on their faces but with the telltale signs of concern on the other woman’s face.

“Thank you for watching her.”

Abigail waved her off. “Not at all! Rosie was right – it was fun.”

Ida nodded, reluctantly letting Rosie back down on the ground. The little girl didn’t waste any time chasing Jack around their parents and giggling as they went. The comfort and warmth from watching them play was almost enough to make Ida forget about how dreadful she truly felt.

The same couldn’t be said for Miss Roberts, however.

“I don’t mean to pry, Ida, but--”

“I know you have questions,” Ida interjected, a hand on her head; her fingers working her temple to alleviate the ache that had formed behind her eyes. “But, honestly, I don’t really know what to say to ya because I have all these goddamn feelings and I’m so afraid that if I keep talking, they’re just gonna spill out and I-I can’t handle that right now, I can’t--”

“Okay, okay,” Abigail hushed in a soothing voice, like she was trying to calm a wild horse before breaking it in. “We won’t talk about it. How about we all get somethin’ to eat instead. Pearson’s cooked up another fine meal and I think you could use it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. It was easy to forget that Abigail was actually the younger of the two sometimes, much to her shame. “That sounds perfect.”

* * *

Tunnel vision. That’s exactly what Arthur experienced as he rode back into camp after his encounter with the O’Driscoll’s and that infuriating woman, Ida. A tunnel of deep crimson fuelled only by adrenaline and blind rage – burning in him like molten steel left on a blacksmith’s forge. He needed to be alone; to calm his racing heart so he could rationalise the events. Luckily for him, the tunnel ended at his tent and Miss Grimshaw had already been kind enough to leave the flaps down for the night, allowing him his privacy.

Arthur pulled the rifle off his shoulder, even throwing it to the ground, as he kicked off his boots. Feeling utterly exhausted, his hat joined the gun soon after, his hands running firmly through his hair as he desperately tried to wrack his brain for any semblance of judicious thought.

Unfortunately it seemed the gang had other ideas about his privacy.

“Arthur?” Dutch had decided to join him in his tent, no doubt concerning himself about the situation. “What’s wrong, son? Charles mentioned you went hunting with Miss Murphy...?”

There was an unspoken, silent question in hi nosing as he looked down at the coagulated blood that covered his torso, but Arthur didn’t have the energy to search for it. “We were attacked,” He grunted out with a sharp exhale of breath, seating himself on his cot in his effort to release some of the tension he felt.

“Attacked?! By whom?”

He shook his head. Even remembering the bastards left a sour taste in his mouth. “O’Driscolls.”

Dutch practically growled in animosity; vexed wasn’t an adequate enough descriptor for how he looked. “Bastards.” The older man paused, searching his face. “Well, is Miss Murphy okay?”

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, irritation plain on his features. “No. No, I don’t think she is,” he retorted, memories of how her whole body had been trembling after she took the shot vivid in his mind.

“What happened?”

He recalled the whole tale; from the moment he’d spotted the O’Driscolls and ordered her to leave, all the way up to being tackled to the floor and rescued by her unsuspecting form. Dutch listened carefully, never once interrupting – Surprising, considering how much Arthur knew he loved to talk. Once he was finished relaying the tale, he hunched forwards, his head in his hands as he fully came to terms with everything that had happened.

“It seems like Miss Murphy has had a trying day,” Dutch eventually said, breaking up the stifling atmosphere that had permeated through their cogitation.

Arthur’s chest contracted as he realised the truth of the statement. Having talked it through, the ire he’d felt upon entering camp no longer existed – what remained was a deep-seated grief and regret at how he had behaved. He had been wrong to react how he did, and he knew it. “I’m a damn fool, Dutch.”

Van Der Linde exhaled sharply, opting to sit beside him on his cot; a heavy hand laid on his shoulder. “You were never the most genteel of men.”

Flash images of a frightened red-haired woman, cowering under his touch, haunted his mind and it shamed him that he had contributed to that fear at all – for all his bluster… “I just got so mad.”

“No, son, no you didn’t.” Arthur turned to Dutch, who stared back at him with a sympathetic eye. “You got scared. And fear can make a man do terrible things.”

He was right. He had been scared. Scared of another young child ending up an orphan; scared that a good woman had been willing to risk that for him in the first place; and scared that he cared enough to feel fear at all. Not that he would admit it.

“Do you know why I agreed to allowing Miss Murphy to join us?” Dutch continued, pausing long enough for him to shake his head. “For the same reason you’re sat there wallowing in self-pity right now.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, bewildered by what the older man was suggesting. “And if you haven’t figured it out yet, well, then you really are a fool.”

Dutch got up from the cot, patting Arthur on the shoulder once more. “Now you listen to me – you get yourself cleaned up; maybe even ride into town and have a nice, long bath. In that time, you figure out how you fix this,” he ordered, pointing a finger at him in much the same way he had when scolding him growing up. “Women like Miss Murphy, they don’t come around often.” He glanced away, finally removing his hand from his shoulder. Arthur wondered if he might be thinking of his past love, Annabel. However, he didn’t allow the melancholy to linger long. “You apologise to her, and you thank her. As far as I’m concerned, that woman deserves a medal.”

Arthur nodded, rising from the bed also, his shame quelled by a new found determination. “An apology ain’t gonna cut it, but I have an idea about how to make it up to her. I may be gone for a few days, though,” he said, reaching down to pick up his signature hat and settle it back on his head.

“Whatever you need to do, son. Just-” He paused, inclining his head as he scrutinised his appearance. “Perhaps change out of the bloody clothes first, hm?”

Arthur huffed, a small smile gracing his lips as he inspected his tattered shirt. In his earlier enmity, he hadn’t taken his image into much consideration. He was a mess.

Dutch smiled as he turned to leave.

“Dutch.” The older man stopped at the sound of his name. Arthur bit his lip, awkwardly shifting from one leg to another and feeling very much like the kid he once was. “Thank you for, well, you know.”

He nodded, the small smile visible under the brim of his hat. “Any time, son.”

With that, he exited the tent, the flap swishing shut behind him; leaving Arthur a whole lot of planning to do.


End file.
